Always Use the Proper Names for Things
by Lightless
Summary: It's Valentine's Day in 1945. Hermione has found herself enamored with a certain young Dark Lord. This is their holiday.


**Disclaimer: Not JKR. I posted this fic to a forum a few months back and wanted to upload it here. Enjoy!**

It was a day like any other. Well, that is to say, it was a Valentine's Day like any other. Upon waking, Tom had already received no less than five gifts of sweets, waiting for him in the Slytherin common room. He had brought them to his own quarters and set them alight at once; should any of the girls in question ask him what he thought of his gift, he would reply that he adored it, for it was uniquely rich and enjoyable among the dozens of others he had received in the past. If any one of them had attempted to slip him a love potion and were disappointed that it hadn't succeeded, it wasn't as though any of them could reasonably object, especially to his face. Of course, hardly anyone was brave enough to confront him to his face, as these gifts often remained anonymous with the hopes they would work from afar and he would come to them, but he'd become used to it ever since his third year when one particularly amorous admirer presented him chocolate.

Ever since then it was a simple matter.

The other gifts on such days, however, were a little trickier. He hardly ever got roses, but poems were popular, even songs. Letters that recited before him during breakfast were not exactly what he looked forward to every year, but sometimes they did prove amusing.

But mostly embarrassingly pathetic. Like this one in front of him now.

"_Gryffindors are red,_

_Ravenclaws are blue,_

_Why not choose a Slytherin this year_

_for we love you too_?"

It was referring to the main difference in this particular Valentine's Day, that he had been knowingly fraternizing with a Gryffindor transfer student by the name of Hermione Granger. The notion of love mentioned in the song brought an amused sort of half smirk to his face, but he set that one aside with the growing pile. This year was proving to be the most "successful" of any thus far. Whether it was the fact that this was his last year, or due to the well-known fact he had, what you would call, a "girlfriend", he didn't really care to find out.

In fact, he thought this holiday much more trouble than it was worth. The Slytherins around him, however, apparently thought it smile worthy as well, which earned them a disdainfully raised eyebrow, to which they fell silent.

There; that was more like it.

It wasn't surprising to find the rest of the day tailored to this silly holiday. Love potions brewed in Slughorn's class; Dumbledore having them focus on glamors for personal use; even Merrythought decided it prudent to lecture the students on the fact that Dark Magic isn't something limited to strangers, that you could encounter it anywhere, even among those you thought could be trusted. She then went on to tell them what to do in that particular event, reminding them of the right and wrong of it all. Report to the authorities, try not to make it personal. Try not to let the crushing despair of betrayal keep you from thinking clearly.

Rubbish, mostly.

Hermione, however, seemed to pick up on the lesson's import, as she kept glancing beside herself to him. In fact, more than that, she was staring at him most unabashedly, causing him to send her a collected and questioning look in return. The look in her eye when he did so revealed to him that she saw through his innocent act and was quite exasperated with it, and for that he had to smile to her in return. After all, she was so easily riled.

When it came to a demonstration, the Professor chose Tom and Hermione to represent the hypothetical situation. Her best students, of course, who also happened to be the sort of close she could use, so why wouldn't she choose them? Tom had been expecting this ever since the start of the lecture.

Hermione, apparently, hadn't, but her gaze was serious as she stared across at him on the dais. He couldn't help but take amusement from the situation, the mockery of reality that stood before him.

Merrythought continued her lecture as they got into position, "Now, as there are all sorts of curses available to Dark Wizards and Witches, as to them they are not hindered to clean magic, there are a multitude of ways to defending yourselves from them. That is, indeed, why we have an entire class for this subject, so right now I want to stress to you the importance of knowing how to defend against Unforgivables, particularly Unforgivables from where you least expect it."

The teacher turned to acknowledge that her star pupils were in position.

"Instead of the particular curses, we are going to use substitutes in this situation: a Confundus Charm will represent the Imperius Curse, _Petrificus Totalus _will represent the Killing Curse, and to avoid doing any real damage, we'll go ahead and use the Levitation Charm for the purpose of this demonstration to represent the Cruciatus Curse. Now, Tom, Hermione... We'll begin with Hermione as the one to cast a 'curse' and we'll see if Tom knows how to defend himself against it."

With a smile, Merrythought gestured towards them, "If you'll begin."

As soon as she gave the go ahead, Hermione's wand slashed through the air as she hissed, "_Petrificus Totalus_," towards him, so all he had to do was side-step the spell.

"Very good, you two! Now, class, keep in mind Tom made no move to block this spell. The Killing Curse is able to move past even the most advanced of magical shields. Unfortunately, your only hope is see it coming and to dodge it. Now, Tom, if you'll retaliate?"

He stepped once more into the center, a light smile on his face. "Of course, professor," leaving his lips easily as he took a quick step towards his opponent, his wand moving in a small, quick, and graceful arc as he muttered, "_Confundus_" under his breath.

And suddenly Hermione had a very confused look on her face; he could read it in her expression - what was she doing here? Why was she on a stone dias? What class was this again? Why did Tom Riddle have to look so bloody attractive?

All right, so maybe he used a bit of casual Legilimency for that last bit, but it was her own fault for staring at him so openly. With her mind such an open book in this state... how could he resist?

Merrythought didn't miss a beat, however. "When you are under the Imperius you will feel a release from responsibility or worry, as giving over your free will makes it so you are not in control of your actions, thus you are not responsible for them. There is no way to successfully block this curse. However, it is possible to overcome it with the right amount of willpower."

Hermione shook her head to clear it, and Tom saw her mind anchor itself as a response to Merrythought's lecturing.

"Just as Hermione is attempting now," Merrythought noted with a smile, "But there's no need for that," and she raised her wand, "_Finite_."

And there she was again, glaring at Tom from across the stone dais, with complete understanding of what had transpired. She did not appreciate that, he could tell. But that means there's one spell left between the two of them. If the pattern would continue, Hermione would be the one to cast it. However...

"My advice to you, class: whenever you start to feel as though your responsibilities are no longer your concern, remember all that rides on your responsibility. Remember who and what you care for, and what actions you take for them on a daily basis. If anything, find your sense of betrayal by that person who cast the spell upon you, and fight for it. Many times, the Imperius Curse is nothing but a back thought in the mind of the caster, especially when it comes to long-term casting. Take that knowledge and use it against them.

"Now, we still have one spell left. Hermione, if you please?"

There was no hesitancy in her form as she swished and flicked her wand in a very practiced and very purposeful casting of one of the very first spells she learned, "_Wingardium Leviosa._"

When Tom began to float, he let his hands turn out beside him, while lifting his gaze up, as if to mimic the sort of religious ascension to the sky that was done by an angel. He was sure Hermione didn't quite like his take on it, and his suspicions were soon confirmed by their professor.

"The Levitation Charm is similar to the Cruciatus Curse in one simple way: focus. Constant focus upon the subject must be given at all times or else the spell will fail."

And Tom looked down just in time to catch Merrythought's eye at that point, and without a word between them, he flicked his wand towards Hermione and simply cast, "_Rictusempra._"

With Hermione in giggles, Tom fell to the floor of the dais, landing on his feet with the expertise of someone with enough foresight to pull it off.

"Just as such!" Merrythought nodded to her students, "The best way to escape a Cruciatus Curse is to break the opponent's concentration." With a wave of her wand, Merrythought sent another _Finite_ to Hermione, and once again, she was sobered. The professor nodded thanks to Hermione and Tom, and gestured for them to return to their seats.

"Professor," Hermione thought to ask, before complying, "Wouldn't it also be important to know that the strength of the spell is based purely on the enjoyment gained from it? Unlike the Levitation Charm, which is based on magical prowess."

"Right you are, Miss Granger," Merrythought agreed, though looking more serious than just a moment before. "Students, it is pertinent to know that if you are ever at the receiving end of a Cruciatus, righteous fury will not sustain the Curse. Rather, sadism is its driving force. If someone you might have once thought to be your friend or ally uses such a Curse against you, the strength of their Cruciatus will tell you where their heart truly lies."

A silence fell over the class, and Tom's eyes were on the witch he'd been dueling with. He could feel the eyes of Avery, of Nott, of Mulciber, and Lestrange. He felt the eyes of his friends, those with whom he had practiced these Dark Arts with and had personally taught them how to cast such spells. He wasn't so worried as to a teacher simply reinforcing that which they already knew. There was no need to doubt, for if their loyalty to him was so easily swayed by a simple _implication_, he had no need of them to begin with.

But he knew what they were wondering. Why now? Why here? Why Hermione and Tom? He didn't have to use Legilimency to guess that they suspected his new girlfriend had perhaps mentioned something she aught not have to the professor.

He knew better, of course. Hermione might have her moments but she wasn't stupid.

When they moved to their seats and sat down, Hermione leant over to him and whispered, "I need you after class."

Before he could argue, Merrythought continued her lecture to include the dangers of allowing oneself to be charmed by an unusual object or creature, anything that is isolated to you and that you cannot get another perspective on. Tom was a diligent student, so he paid attention, but he couldn't help but feel as though the lecture was going to waste on someone such as him, someone who didn't need the warnings.

He could feel Hermione's gaze as Merrythought continued, as though the professor were warning them against... Well, Hermione certainly had her own ideas about him. There was something about that thought which brought a smile to his face, and so it's with that smile that eventually the lectured came to a close, and Hermione was still staring. He let the other students leave first, because as much as he's loathe to simply take orders, he was more curious about what Hermione wanted to confront him about than to let his pride get in the way, at least for today.

And so finally, when there were only a few stragglers (one of which who wanted to speak to Merrythought in her office), his gaze rounded back on Hermione's, and for once hers faltered. She looked down at the floor behind him, before bringing her eyes back up.

"Not here," and without any more explanation, she gathered her things and stood, looking at him expectantly and waiting for him to follow suit.

Curiouser and curiouser, and so he let her lead him to an abandoned classroom.

"You probably think this has something to do with Merrythought's class, but I promise you, it doesn't. Nor Slughorn's class, for that matter," she said as she set her things on an abandoned desk and fished inside one of her bags.

"Now, I know you're not the sort to appreciate this sort of thing, and I'm positive you wouldn't have thought of something for me, but I went ahead and did it anyway," and without further adieu, Hermione brought something wrapped in plastic out of her bag and held it towards him.

He knew what it was as soon as he laid eyes on it, but he let her explain anyway.

"I promise I didn't plant a love potion in it or anything. Not that I'm the sort of girl to think that would work on someone like you anyway, but it's straight from Honeydukes. I figured you wouldn't like one of those ginormous chocolate hearts they have around this time of year, so I figured..."

What she held in her hands was a skeleton head. A_ chocolate_ skeleton head bigger than his fist. Briefly, he wondered where she had acquired the money from to purchase it.

He opened his mouth for a second, thought better of it, and closed it again. He could only imagine what she thought of him, for once at a loss for words. His brow furrowed, he couldn't help but feel a deep seated resentment towards the sweet for its very existence. He couldn't quite... understand what she was trying to do here.

"Hermione," he said finally, after a pregnant pause in which she had patiently awaited a reaction.

"What?" She seemed on her guard at that moment, as though afraid she'd done something wrong, and indeed, that seemed to be his assessment. She never cared for his approval, or even his blatant affection. Sure, jealousy had its moments but nothing so direct as this. Certainly nothing_ sentimental_ as what she's trying to do. He couldn't help but have his mouth make itself into a sneer as he glared at the offending sweet in her hand.

"I find chocolate _disgusting._"

And then, Hermione did the very thing that would ensure her a reaction out of him: she _laughed_.

"_You_ don't like chocolate? The great Tom Marvolo Riddle doesn't like chocolate? Don't tell me, the reason you destroyed all those admirer's sweets wasn't because you were afraid they were laced with something, oh no, it's because they were chocolates and not toffees," she laughed again, "And here I thought -"

"What was the _point_ of this?" He hissed, interrupting her _thought_ as he took two steps towards her, ripped the skeleton head out of her hand and held it up to her face. "Did you think that somehow you were better than my other _admirers, _that somehow you knew the secret to my heart was in the fleshless faces of my enemies? Is that what this is?"

The fury was evident in his face, then, and he knew she was afraid when she first flinched at his actions. But it wasn't enough to satisfy him, wasn't enough to hold her at bay. After all, she was a _Gryffindor_ and so facing fear was in her nature.

"That is most certainly _not _what that is, _Tom_," she hissed back, matching his tone and his anger but not quite at the same... intensity, "That is a symbol, a manifestation of whatever this is that's built between us. It's... a gesture, something small to represent the bigger truth of the situation before us. It's a _gift_, from me to you, on a day that is meant to be for us! For all couples everywhere, and I _know_ you have a thing about being different from everybody else but can't you just appreciate that I wanted to do something for you?"

The look in his eyes said it all, and he could see the way in which her body shift, in which she resigned herself.

"Fine. Fine, then. I should've known there was no way to _normalize_ this, since you're so _set_ on being a _special snowflake_!" She grabbed the skeleton out of his hand in return. "Since you have to be above everybody else, can't be with them, can't join them in their primitive festivities like a _normal person_, then fine! I shouldn't have bought this, I shouldn't have thought..."

And she looked away at that, shaking her head to herself, and he could see it in her body language that she knew she'd made a mistake with this entire meeting. He knew she wanted comfort, knew that she was trying to cope with, well, him. And he couldn't very well bring himself to care for her emotions right now, couldn't relate to her in any way.

"Shouldn't have thought I'd somehow take a liking to something I detest simply because you bought it?"

Hermione was staring down at the sweet, now, before bringing her head up to protest, "That is not what I'm getting at and you know it -"

"No, you meant it that way. You're taking my rejection of the object as a rejection of the premise, which... I won't say you're wrong in that, as you're right that I can't be bothered with the simple things that our classmates seem so insistent upon adoring. They hold no sway over the real crux of matters, and I thought you understood that. But I suppose I misjudged you; you insist upon not 'liking me' for a decent amount of time, even when it's obvious that you do, and now, when you know me better than you ever did then, you admit to your attraction and act upon it in foolish ways, ways you now know I would not appreciate. You're not arguing with me, Hermione. You're simply arguing with yourself."

In all of this, he once again bridged the remaining distance between the two of them, and took the offending chocolate from her hand as she stared up into his eyes. He smiled down at her, having confidence in his ability to figure her out, and more importantly, taking her sigh of resignation as proof of his win.

"Arguing with myself?" she breathed, "More like I'm angry at myself for being mad enough to think that you would know what to do with any sort of _affection_ -"

"I fail to see how that is any different," he returned, staring now at the skeleton head.

She snorted, and shook herself out of the funk she'd fallen into, "Well, if you're not going to eat that, then I'll take it back, please," and held out a hand for him to return it to her.

And to that, he lifted an eyebrow, and smiled something dark. "Simply because I find the idea of eating it repulsive doesn't mean I won't accept it."

"But what - what was all that _for_, then?" Hermione scoffed, gesticulating out to her side.

And his smile only grew, "You do look so very _nice_ when you're defeated by the means of logic. It's as though your most trusted companion turned out to be your very downfall."

"You - you - you foul - evil - soulless - egotistical - Merlin _help me _if you dare to make that one of your -"

"Yes?" And he couldn't help the glee from his face as she spluttered before him, "One of my what?"

"Trophies," She insisted, "As though this is a victory for you, as though you've won me over, as proof of my... my feelings," he could see the blush that started to bloom in her cheeks, and he smiled as he reached out a hand with long fingers, taking her chin in his grasp and -

_look at me_

bringing her face to view his.

"Say my name, Hermione Granger," he whispered, close to her now, closer to her than he's been all day.

"T-Tom -"

"Not _that_ name," he hissed, his nails now digging into her face as his disdain was made clear by his actions, "I know you know it, my true name. I want you to _say it._"

Hermione didn't move beneath his hand, averted her gaze to the floor below, and oh that won't do -

"_Look at me._"

he hissed out as a command, and she complied, staring deep, staring open, staring wide. He could see it in her eyes, his name. His _real_ name. He could see it so _clearly._

"You know," He started, conversationally. Casually, "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," because he had seen that too, in her eyes, and he could see her eyes widen in recognition, in stark terror and he couldn't help but chuckle at her, laugh out loud at her reaction.

Only to sober quickly, and sharply, pressing his will into hers with his words, "_Say it._"

"Voldemort," she breathed, heavily, shakily, and as soon as it was out of her lips he crashed his against hers. Violently, demandingly, and he pressed into her as though she was his means, his insurance, his _validation. _

It didn't matter to him that she was too spooked to kiss back, but when he pulled back to part from her for a moment to breath, "Voldemort" in a shaky, needy voice was her immediate reaction, and when he went to kiss her this next time, she was ready to retaliate, and with the chocolate head in hand, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.

It was longer this time for them to part, and when they did their faces were still so very close.

Hermione was the first one to break the silence, a wince on her face, "Please don't make me call you 'my lord'."

And to that Voldemort simply laughed, something bizarrely happy, as he went in to press another kiss to her lips, this one quick, "I can't promise anything," he admitted with that same sort of happiness, "Although, I've always been fond of 'my dark king', if you must come up with a substitute."

A snort was what he received for that, and before long she broke down into giggles, "'My dark king'," Hermione mocked, "That's a bit much, even for you."

"Then perhaps 'my lord' would be the best choice," he offered smartly, his arms around her waist.

"Oh, no, you don't. If I have to choose I'm going to stick with Voldemort," and she had a smile on her face as well, as she speaks, "After all, fear of a name..."

"Between you and me, I certainly don't mind it if you fear the thing itself for a little while longer," and he brought his lips just underneath her jaw, kissing where her neck met her head.

"Of course, '_my lord_,'" she returned with an eyeroll, closing her eyes after to appreciate what he was doing to her. She sent her fingers into his hair, twisting and messing it up. Ruining his perfect Tom Riddle hair, something she couldn't do for long because it was charmed to stay as it was, something she'd found out in their first rendezvous.

He brought his lips up to the side of her head, just underneath her ear, trailing kisses along her face to her lips in a way that would be deemed affectionate if it were anyone else. As it is, he can trust Hermione not to make that sort of assumption.

"Say it again," he whispered against her lips.

"My, aren't we full of ourselves tonight?" Hermione whispered back, smirking something defiant, "If you want some bimbo to satisfy your obedience fantasies, might I suggest looking for her in another classroom?"

"Would you like me to, Hermione? I could go to any of the girls out there and make them do whatever I wanted, have them bend to my will. It's simple, easy, not at all like you. Although..." And he kissed her then, with a passion, hungry and intense, but a moment after and he broke the kiss just as fast as it started, "You are enamored just as they are. I can see it in your eyes, feel it on your skin. This ridiculous _gesture_ you decided to do for me today proves it to me no matter how much you might want to deny it," and so he kissed her again, a mockery of gentle and caring.

"I never thought I'd say this, to anyone, but you talk entirely too much," Hermione said once they broke apart, "Voldemort."

Neither of them spoke after that, and soon the chocolate skeleton was placed - no, abandoned - on one of the classroom desks as the couple occupied another during their free period.


End file.
